


greased guns & withered roses

by lunarbullets



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bars and Pubs, Based off His House (Manhwa), Bottom Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Boyfriend Service, Disabled Character, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Top Eren Yeager, side jearmin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 22:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18979309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarbullets/pseuds/lunarbullets
Summary: eren jaeger, a 26 year-old man paying for his tuition through his job of providing clients with “boyfriend service,” receives an unusual client; a tiny man in a wheelchair, with dark, gunmetal eyes that hide secrets that could break the both of them, brooding in a shadowed house that contains the truth.





	greased guns & withered roses

**Author's Note:**

> i've been wanting to post an ereri fic for... two years, and finally, i've dug myself out of my laziness to write up the first chapter for an hopefully chaptered, enjoyable fic. this fic is based off the bl manhwa his house, which you can read on tappytoon, or you know... find a site where you can read it for free. although right now, the first chapter of this story is an exact copy of the first chapter of his house, i'm expecting it to change as i write more chapters, so it may end up differing than the original manhwa. there may be some slight mistakes in the grammar or whatnot, but they should be mostly unnoticeable.

_ “Our home had a big gate in front… And a tall zelkova tree in the garden. You can run through a field of bamboo trees out back. You know how quickly they grow? They grow as quick as you, young man!” _

* * *

“A guy wants my boyfriend service?” 

Eren Jaeger.

Twenty-six, adult male towering at the height of 6’2, and struggling college student. Peeping up from where he has his face buried in his arms, Eren groans and shoves his head back down. “Is this why you dragged me over at ass o'clock in the morning? I want to kill myself.”

The small blonde on the other side of the bar counter tuts a sound of disapproval at the taller’s laziness, wiping away at the stack of damp glass cups stocked by the sink. “It would do well for you to share more interest,” Armin scolds, setting down the now-dry glass with a gentle clink. “If you attend to this last client properly, you’ll have enough money to keep your pockets well and happy until you graduate.” Listening only half-heartedly to what Armin is saying, Eren perks up at the mention of money, interest caught.

“Seriously, Boss?” He asks hopefully, suspiciously eyeing the other, who has resumed his task of wiping the shot glasses dry.

“Uh-huh.” Armin sets down the last cup and stacks the dry glasses absentmindedly, folding the white, damp towel into a neat triangle. “This guy’s  _ loaded.  _ In fact, I’m thinking that if we play a little more hard to get, we can get even more out of it.”

Eren sits up, crossing his ankles, the thought of sleep far away now. The hefty amount of money surely being offered was extremely tempting, until it crosses his mind on what he must have to do in order to earn the bills. “Oh, shit.” The brunette slouches in his seat. “That much money can only mean that’s he’s going to make me do weird crap. He’s probably a creepy old pervert that leeches off of young, unsuspecting beautiful men like me.” He flops his arms down onto the counter, long limbs smacking Armin, who snorts.

“And you call yourself a man.” Armin turns to slide open a drawer and pull out a thick set of papers.”Although you may be spot-on on the old man thing.” Eren lets out a disappointed warble. “However, I don’t think you’ll have to worry much.” The shorter sets down the papers, pushing them front so Eren can lean over and eye them. “These are the documents of the client.” Armin explains, “as you can see from reading these, this guy can’t even  _ walk.”  _

Eren’s brows arch up as he pays more attention to the words printed out on the paper, noting the words  _ disabled  _ and  _ paralysis.  _ “Can’t walk? Huh.” His attention is stolen as he shifts his eyes to the side of the paper, finding the sum offered, his breath hitching as he catches the number of zeroes. Setting down the paper before he’s disappointed that he’s hallucinating the number, he suggests, “shouldn’t this guy get himself a nurse instead of a boyfriend?” 

Armin shrugs, clearly not interested. “Maybe, but apparently it’s because his family is pressuring him to get married, and he wants to be free of their nagging for a while. He didn’t offer me any other reason, and I didn’t ask.”

“Hmph.” Eren crosses his arms. “The struggles of the rich, eh? Just shuffle your money and hope for the best.”

“Well, long story short, he won’t be jumping your bones, so I can accept the contract, right?” Eren narrows his eyes, suddenly suspicious of Armin’s excitement in having Eren agree to the male client, before it clicks.

“How much are you getting paid under the table?” He asks, carefully, and doesn’t miss the way the other immediately tenses and scampers not-so discreetly away from him. 

“I… have no clue on what you’re suggesting,” Armin says, moving as far as he can without Eren noticing. It doesn’t work, because Eren jumps to his feet and reaches out to grab the other.

“You liar!” Eren points an accusing finger at the blond who is nervously fluttering away from him. “Spill it!” 

Armin scurries away, hurriedly untying the apron tied around his waist. “I’m not getting anything, drop it!”

Eren snarls and runs after the other, who screeches and races for the back room. “Get back here, Arlert!”

⬽ - - - - - - - - - ⤛ × ⤜ - - - - - - - - - ⤘

In the end, Armin had tearfully lowered the commission he received from this job to five percent, quivering under Eren’s watchful eyes. 

“When you take, you want ten percent, but when you give a discount, you give five percent?” Eren mutters in a low growl, squeezing his fists. “You damn thief.”

Stopping in his tracks as he reaches a property that’s barricaded by tall walls and a wide gate, Eren blinks up, gawking at the enormous house that’s towering over him. “Oh, hell,” he whispers, astounded. “I must’ve gotten the address wrong,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes before glancing back down at his texts. One quick look at the address Armin had sent via message confirms that no, he hadn’t got the house wrong.

“Woah.” Raising his gaze back up to the house, he takes a moment to appreciate simply the  _ size  _ of the house. “Is this place even in Shiganshina?” Staring up at the house that seems to be waiting for him with bated breath, a shiver runs up his spine as he’s reminded that this guy  _ might  _ turn out to be one of the pervert freaks he had previously worried about. Eren quickly shakes his head, stepping up and spotting the wide doorbell that’s set right by the gate. 

“It’s all good,” Eren reassures himself, “if things go too far or get too weird, I can beat him up easily and make a run for it.” Gulping, he eyes the doorbell that seems to have a speaker above it, he half-heartedly presses the button with a finger, nearly jumping out of his skin when a voice crackles out of the speaker almost immediately.

“Yes?” The voice is quiet and hoarse, sounding as if it hasn’t been used for ages. 

“Um…” Eren self-consciously tugs on his collar, eyes darting around the surrounding area as if to check if there are any cameras watching him. Clearing his throat, he says, “this is Eren Jaeger,” he starts, then hastily adds, “from Wall Maria. I was told you would be alerted that I would be paying a visit?”

A silence stretches from the speaker before there’s a click and the line goes dead. Eren stares at the doorbell, suddenly feeling as if he’s been dumped “Shoot,” he huffs, agitated, running a rough hand through his hair. He glances back at the address. “Armin must’ve sent me the wrong place, damn.” 

He’s about to back away to turn on his heel and never return, when there’s a loud, scraping noise that makes him jolt and return his attention to where the sound is coming from, raising an eyebrow at the large gate as it slides open with jerky movements, making the awful racket all the while. “Huh,” Eren says, pleasantly shocked. “Seems that it wasn’t the wrong house after all.” 

Peeking inside the property hesitantly, his eyes go wide as he takes in all the space that was obscured by the gates. “Holy,” he breathes. “How many acres is this?”

Figuring if he spent any more time lingering outside of the property just staring, it would be considered suspicious, Eren gently steps foot into the lawn, cringing as his feet squash a fresh patch of healthy grass. He nearly tiptoes through the dirt, the thick grass blanketing his footsteps.

It feels like some sort of crime, to trample the neat grass this way, and Eren tries not to dwell on it too much. 

When he finally reaches the front door, he quickly straightens his shirt and smooths out the wrinkles on his pants, before raising his fist to give three sharp raps on the door, nodding to himself. He’s barely lowered his fist when the same hoarse voice rings through the door. “The door is open, find your way in.”

_ Okay then.  _ Dropping his hand from the door down to the knob, he gently twists the door open, poking his head to find the interior in complete darkness. Furrowing his brows, Eren cautiously shuffles his body in, shutting the door behind him. “Um, hello?” He calls out into the darkness, feeling like a fool when only silence responds to him. His fingers curl on the fabric of his jeans as he speaks up once again. “This is Eren Jaeger from Wall Maria— ”

The sound of a switch being flipped on, and bright lights flooding the room temporarily blinds Eren, cutting him off. There’s the sound of wheels rolling before a man’s disgruntled voice speaks up. “You said that already. I can hear you just fine, so no need to repeat yourself.” 

Eren’s jaw snaps shut with an audible click.  _ What a stuck-up ass,  _ crosses his mind briefly, before he’s looking up, blinking out the bright spots dancing in his vision, and the thought is wiped from his mind as his eyes lock with a pair of gunmetal ones. 

It takes a moment for him to first register how exactly breathtakingly  _ gorgeous  _ this man is, with jet-black hair that’s cut sharply into an undercut, glossy black bangs hanging over his forehead. Eren’s never had an eye for detail, but even his dull mind notes the defined cheekbones, the sharp slope of the other’s nose, the purse of his lips. 

It doesn’t take as long for him to realize exactly how  _ tiny  _ this man is. Even if he wasn’t sitting down on his wheelchair, and was able to stand up with his legs in front of Eren, the top of the other’s head would have barely reached up to Eren’s chest. 

The smallness isn’t just pertaining to the raven head’s height, it’s body wise as well, with slim arms and a petite frame, with curves that are even better than some of the curvy girls Eren’s been with. There’s something soft about the man’s exterior, despite the fact that the gray eyes, that are so light they’re almost ashy blue, are cold as ice. 

If it weren’t for the other’s legs, this guy would have had girls and boys alike lining up at this door.

“ _ Wow, _ ” Eren says, the words coming out of his mouth before his brain can catch up, “you’re tiny.”  _ What a relief.  _ He wouldn’t have to worry about the older attacking him.

The man’s lips tighten into a grim line, and his eyes glare coldly in Eren’s direction, the taller realizing what exactly had just came out of his mouth.

“Oh, shoot, I apologize —”

“I’m Levi Ackerman,” the man—Levi—interrupts, his expression conveying the message of  _ shut it before you make it worse.  _ “I’m the owner of this house.” 

Eren holds back the urge to childishly reply with  _ “no, duh!”  _ Instead, he opts to glance around, trying to catch a glimpse of the rest of the rooms of the house. He catches a peep of what seems to be the study, overflowing with sheets of papers and stacks of books. “You got a nice place,” he says offhandedly, body itching to explore the simply enormous house. “You live alone?”

Maybe it wasn’t the correct thing to say, because Levi’s cold stare turns into a burning glare, and he completely brushes past the taller’s question. “I’ll tell you what you have to do,” Levi begins shortly. “Since you are a college student, visit me after your classes over and stay here until nighttime. If you run into anyone while you are over here visiting, pretend as if you are my significant other. This job may be finished and done within a week, or it may last over the course of a few months. I’ll be paying you monthly.”

Eren patiently waits until the other is finished, then folds his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall behind him. “Is that all?” He asks.

“I’ll be providing you with documents that will inform you about my history and current state, so don’t come to pester me with any unnecessary questions.” Levi leans back in his wheelchair, tilting his head up so he can lock his ashen gray-blue eyes (blue heather, Eren recalls, from when he’d had a part-time job with paint samples and such) with the younger’s. “And finally,” he says, ignoring Eren’s mutter of  _ there’s more?  _ “Stay out of my life. Any questions?”

Eren huffs in annoyance, skin crawling at the other’s show of superiority. “So damn arrogant,” he murmurs, low enough that Levi won’t be able to overhear him. “Who gave him the right act like an ass.”

Stepping forward, he tilts his own head down to level the other with a steady stare. “If I meet your family, they’ll probably try to strangle me. You willing to pay for my medical bills on the side?” He says, mostly just to wring out a spiteful reaction from the other.

Levi holds his stare, seemingly unimpressed. “I don’t want to get involved with a lowlife who sells his body on the daily,” he sneers, and Eren’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. “Your boyfriend service will suffice.”

Throughout all the insults Levi had tacked on, Eren’s jaw and only dropped lower with every word. Despite himself, his fists ball up, and a rush of absolute fury flashes through him. “Excuse me, sir?” He hisses through clenched teeth, trying to keep his mind-numbing angry at bay.

As if to add the cherry on top, the smaller gives him a dirty look, as if Eren is a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. “Don’t touch me.  _ Ever.”  _ Levi whirls his wheelchair around, clearly indicating that the conversation is over, while Eren digs his nails into his palms. 

_ As if I would touch a dude in the first place!  _ Eren fumes. He generally classes at straight, and besides,  _ I’m not the one who hired a random dude to be my pretend boyfriend! _

In his irritated state of mind, an idea runs through his frazzled head, and he smirks, pushing away any traces of anger that remain. It’s quite a dumb idea, but his brain currently refuses to process that fact.

He had intended to be polite and nice to Levi since the other was considered as a “VIP” client. Eren straightens, rubbing his forehead. But desperate times call for desperate measures, so Eren steps forward to the other.

“I can’t agree to those terms,” he says, and Levi turns his head, eye narrowing in surprise. “Our motto is  _ full service.”  _ With that he struts closer to the other, watching with gleeful delight as confusion flickers across the older’s expression.

The small, logical area of Eren’s brain that still exists protests loudly, but Eren’s hasn’t been dubbed “Suicidal Bastard” for no reason.

Leaning closer, he catches realization spark in Levi’s eyes just a second too late, because he’s closing the distance and pressing a kiss onto the other’s small lips, pulling away just as quickly as he had approached.

Watching pure, unadulterated shock form on Levi’s face as he realizes just what exactly had taken place is amusing until the smaller raises a hand and  _ slaps  _ Eren across the face, the force behind the blow strong enough that Eren stumbles backward, howling in pain.

It doesn’t take too much after that strike for Eren to run out the house and out the gates, clutching his cheek all the while, where there will surely be a purple bruise flowering the next day. “Ow, shit,” Eren curses, tenderly poking his swollen cheek. “He really put a swing into that slap.”

As the pain dies down just a bit, he falls into a steady trot, giddy laughs suddenly spilling from his lips. “God, it feels fucking great to get back at the arrogant piece of shit.” He doesn’t bother to mask his giggles, not even when a mother who’s walking down the same pathway pulls her young daughter to side at the sight of a six feet two inches grown man, and hurries past, sparing a frightened glance at him.

He sobers up quickly, straightening and shutting his mouth. “Feels awesome, although I got slapped by the same guy I got back at and didn’t even get paid any money for my services. Oh, hell.” Eren stops in his tracks to sink to his knees, his brain finally catching up with the possible consequences of his rash actions. “What’s Boss going to say? Can’t have him finding out, crap.”

As if on cue, a loud, irritating buzz emits from one of Eren’s many pockets, and he spends a moment fumbling through his jacket to pull out his ringing phone, gulping in horror as the name “Boss” appears in bold, white letters. Staring at the caller ID, he weighs his nearly non-existent options, whimpering, “I don’t want to pick up.”

Eren groans, realizing that he’ll probably have to deal with the blond anyways, and it would probably do better to just get over it. Tentatively clicking onto the green phone icon, he cautiously brings the phone up to his ear, fully expecting to hear the shrill sound of Armin shouting at him for not being able to keep his temper cool for even one minute.

It’s a pleasant surprise when he hears Armin chirping at him. “Congrats, Eren! Mr. Ackerman called and let me know that he wants you to start tomorrow. You must have done something correctly for once!”

Eren blinks, jerking up.  _ Done something right?  _ He shuffles through the events of the day and nervously gulps.  _ No way, was the guy _ — _ Levi _ — _ actually homo or something?  _ “That, that can’t be right,” Eren mumbles into the phone receiver, regrets the next instant when Armin’s voice sharpens.

“Is there a problem?” Armin asks oh-so-sweetly, tone cool and calculating, and Eren scrambles to cover up his slip-up, intent on not letting the other know what risks he had exactly taken.

“No! No, that’s not it, it’s nothing,” he babbles into the speaker. “Yeah, that must be it. He fell in love with me at first sight, and yearned for more.” Running a hand through his hair, Eren snickers, “being handsome is so difficult, Jesus.”

Armin’s unamused voice rings out from the end. “I’m not sure what exactly went down over there today, but I’m quite sure your looks have nothing to do with this.” The line goes dead, and Eren slides his phone back into his pocket with a grumble.

“Surprised the guy didn’t sack me the instant I ran out.” He scratches his head, mulling over the strangeness of the entire incident, guiltily not finding anything that could’ve struck Levi to call and request him to immediately begin working. “Will I even be able to take this job? Maybe I should just call it a day and quit this client.” He mulls to himself before he’s reminded of the zeroes that had been printed on the paper.

Sighing and shoving his hands back into the pockets of his jeans, he slouches as he makes his way to his drab apartment, already dreading the moment he would have to go and pay a visit to Levi the next day.

“Fuck,” Eren curses.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://lunarbullets.tumblr.com/)


End file.
